Dragging myself out of bed, I left his loft and returned to my own room.
The emptiness seemed to echo around me, amplifying the loneliness. I spent the rest of the day replaying everything in my mind, while I tried to escape the fear of having him pushed away.
I didn’t hear from James. Not that day. Not the next. Not for the rest of the week.
And the silence was deafening.
SEVEN
EMMA
It had been a while since I’d seen Jackson, but the warmth of our friendship hadn’t faded—only strengthened when he instantly agreed to meet me at our usual spot, the Irish pub, as soon as I reached out that Friday night. A true sign of loyalty. Or boredom.
I spotted him sitting at the bar, his usual calm demeanor in place, though his eyes lit up as he glanced in my direction. There was that familiar smile—kind, warm, and filled with genuine joy at the sight of me. It reminded me how long it had been since we’d last caught up. Seriously, how had we let so much time pass?
"Em," he breathed, the sound of my name carrying relief as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to my cheek like some old-world gentleman. He started to pull back, but I wasn’t about to let him off that easily. I threw an arm around his neck, dragging him into a proper half-hug.
He stiffened for a second, probably doing the mental math on whether or not this level of affection was necessary, then finally returned it. It was a little awkward—like we were both figuringout how to reconnect after so much time apart—but it was still fine. Familiar. Safe.
When we broke away, I opened my mouth to say something, but then I spotted it—a plate of fries already on the table, still steaming, along with a Scotch I definitely hadn’t ordered. My stomach growled audibly.
“You pre-ordered?” I asked, eyes narrowing.
He gave an innocent shrug. “I figured you’d want carbs and a coping mechanism.”
I dropped into the seat, already reaching for a fry. “That’s disturbingly accurate.”
I bit into one like it was the first warm thing I’d touched in weeks. “Honestly, if you’d thrown in a side of onion rings, I’d be legally obligated to name my first child after you.”
Jackson gave me a look. “That’s a lot of pressure for bar food.”
I popped another fry in my mouth. “And yet it’s still more emotionally available than most men.”
He snorted. “I reject that gender-wide slander on principle.”
“Really?” I raised an eyebrow. “Want to tell me about your last three romantic relationships?”
He blinked. “Not particularly.”
“Exactly.”
I laughed as he took a slow sip of his drink, clearly regretting ever trying to win this exchange.
"Seems like forever since I’ve seen you," I said softly, the words carrying a hint of apology.
Jackson raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "You can say that again. Pretty sure I haven’t seen much of you since you started dating my best friend."
I shrugged. "Not like I’ve seen much of him either."
A frown appeared on his usually stoic face. "Do I detect a hint of unhappiness in that lovely voice of yours?"
Okay, way too deep for minute five of this reunion. I smiled through it, and tried to deflect with a joke. "Nah, it’s the hunger talking. Pretty sure I haven’t eaten a decent meal in weeks."
Jackson’s serious expression cracked as he laughed. "You and food. I’m starting to think James might have some competition."
I grinned. "Don’t tell him, but food’s winning by a mile."
"How tragic," he said. "Outshined by a fry."
